


Bloom Into You

by Orca (Orca2)



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orca2/pseuds/Orca
Summary: I planted a garden above your grave; the flowers whisper sweet nothings in my ear just as you did.





	1. Introduction

Shinya's footsteps were painfully loud. His boots might as well have been tap shoes, because each step was met with a "click" that echoed throughout the entirity of the vast castle. He could feel the panicked beats of his heart pounding against his ribcage like a trapped bird. His frayed mental state was partially a result of how worried he was of being caught, and also due to how unfamiliar the place was.

He peaked around the corner he was hiding behind, and found a room just as empty as the one he came from. It must have been used as a dining area, because it had a long table running down the middle of it. The floor was made out of stone, although it was shiny enough that he could see his reflection in it.

Unlit lanterns lined the room, and a chandelier woven of thorns hung from the ceiling.The only light source was the stained glass windows, that used tinted shards of lavender, along with deep hues of bronze in an elaborate design. 

After studying the area just long enough to ensure no one was there, he continued wandering.

The hallways were winding, and sometimes even curved. Some rooms were dome-shaped, others made with stone brick. The building was dark and gray, for the most part. Occasionally there was a mural of a garden, or maybe a white or gold peice of furniture. Nothing extravagent, just so unbelievably large. Along with cobwebs, dust, and the off-putting creaking sounds old houses make when they're settling.

He drifted from a room filled with various instruments and stone statues of angels, to one that had an array of empty fountains along with seating areas surrounding them, to a enormous room with nothing in it but hung picture frames, with no paintings in them. Jars of fireflies had dangled from the cieling on strings to illuminate the room.

This place felt dead. Not just the atmosphere, the construction itself. It breathed with apathy, it was old and ancient and the spark of life was slowly draining from it.

After wandering around aimlessly for what had been several hours, Shinya began to feel as if he were losing his mind. There was an endless number of rooms, and not one of them was occupied. For the life of him, he could not find any means of exit.

He was walking with no inhibition at this point, doing nothing to hide the noise of his strides. Shinya had gone from worrying about being caught to wishing there was another living person in this hollow place besides himself.

At the the end of the hall he had been walking down for the past twenty minutes, there were two large, dark brown doors. Infact, the hallway had a lip at the end, and widened out just to accomidate the massive entrance.

Shinya pushed open one of the doors, which were actually rather heavy and required a considerable amount of force. He then stepped into a wide, circular room with bookshelves decoracting every wall. Looking up, he realized that they stretched on forever, and the glass ceiling was about a mile off the floor. Blocking the view slightly, was an incredibly unsafe staircase that zig-zagged up the tower, proppeled only by the walls.

The sunlight was bliss on his skin, and he could feel himself buzzing with life once again. Shinya took a deep breath of air, and let it out with a sigh. Letting his eyes loll to the side, he noticed the entrance to the stairway. It unfurled at the end, the detailed railing carved to curl in his direction. It seemed like a luring invitation to venture up it's path, which made him both uneasy and curious. 

Golden light flickered across the mahogany shelves, and for the brief moments they were illuminated they almost appeared maroon. Shinya quietly made his away over to the bookshelf to investigate. The wood was smooth beneath his fingertips, although coated in a thin layer of dust. It left two defined streaks from where he touched it. A small plaque above the bookshelf was ingraved with the word " _Classic_ " in black cursive. 

Shinya picked up a book from the middle shelf, which had a cover that was bound with what appeared to be tightly woven moss. It was blank, without a title. He opened it, and sifted through the pages to stop at a random place.

"... _The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off - and they are nearly always doing it._ "

Shinya raised an eyebrow. Unsure of the exact order he took the book from, and seeing as it lacked a title to alphabetize it by, he just placed it in the widest gap available.

He paced, as he did when he was nervous, and spared another look upward. This trek to the upstairs area would be long, and he would probably be too exhausted to go any further by the fifteenth floor. Shinya squinted, trying to make out what was up there, hopefully an exit.

The first step of the staircase made a creaking sound when he placed his foot on it, which was definitely not a good sign. Regardless, he continued onwards, watching the floor grow farther and farther away. He couldn't look down anymore without it seeming like the ground was spinning, as the floor became nothing more than a dot. His legs ached, begging to give out. At first his hands had shook slightly as they gripped the handrail, but now he'd gotten used to the height. 

As he got closer to the top, he began to hear sprinkling water. Shinya could make out the end of the stairway, and it wasn't that far away, but he was too busy wanting to throw up and die to be excited about that.

The handrails came to a stop, and only then did he realize he had reached the top. The glass cieling was dome-shaped, and woven with white strips of metal that made it look like a birdcage. There was a functional fountain up here, spurting sickly water that had taken on a brownish color. But most importantly, there was a corpse strewn across the floor.

Thorned vines grew out from beneath it, and it was tangled in white silk and spiderwebs. Its hair was long, unnaturally so.

Then did he notice the section the body was under, against the wall, black blankets had been pinned up to cover the light coming from the windows in that area. The sunlight touched everything but her. 

Shinya walked towards this corpse, slowly, very much questioning his own actions. He stood beside it, and with a _whoosh_ , tore the blankets from the window.


	2. Autumn

Shinya jumped back as soon as her pale skin was illuminated, nearly tripping on his own feet to provide some distance. For a long moment, she remained silent and unmoving, as he had expected. But then her delicate fingers twitched, before curling into a fist, as if she were grasping for something. She rose in an incredibly haunting mannor, hair as straight and shiny as velvet pooling in a circle around her. The cobwebs decorating her shoulders, dotted with dew, stretched and then tore as she rose her head. 

Her dress was white, flowing, and so brilliantly lacking in color that it was difficult to see the clear spiderwebs against it. And most eerily, the eyes that peered out beneath her whisps of ghastly hair were red.

 _A Holly_. Shinya found himself involuntarily gripping the blanket tighter in his hands, frozen stiff yet morbidly intrigued. The course fabric crumpled beneath his fingertips. It was an unpleasant texture, likely wool, although he didn't have the mind to pay attention to it at the moment.

The vines wrapped around her waist, how she had woken up after being in the dark so long, all of it was so abnormal. Of course he had heard about the Holly family growing up, spoken about in hushed tones and vague legends, but it was so much more surreal in person.

For the first time, she inhaled, and seemed to light up with color. As she came to life the vines growing from her, which had once been blackened and withered, began to shift into a more greenish hue, starting from the roots, and spreading outwards. Her hair seemed more vibrant somehow, going from a sickly gray to lilac. 

The vines began to shift, and sprouted buds, which bloomed into full red roses. Shinya's eyes widened instinctively, and he felt his cheeks turn the slightest bit warmer. Perhaps he wasn't as mature as he'd like to believe.

She stretched, arms above her head, and her long hair parted as easily as a waterfall. And, after that drawn out process of metamorphosis, let out the breath she was holding with a sigh.

Shinya smiled, as he often does, trying not to portray his bewilderment. "Good morning."

She stared at him blankly, unamused gaze looking straight through him, as if he was not even there.

"What year is it." Her voice was monotone, and her lips barely moved. Dressed in white and pale, with flowers climbing up her form, she could be placed in a graveyard and no one would question that she was a marble statue.

He blinked at the absurdity of the question. "Well, fourteen twelve..." 

She stood, slow yet in one fluid motion. The loose fabric of her sundress fell around her mid-calf, although the tips of her hair still touched the floor. She looked up at the specks of snow and dead orange leaves that had collected on the crooks of the windows, and seemed to be delighted by it.

Without glancing at him, she asked "What do they call you?"

Shinya debated lying as a precautionary measure, but decided against it. "Shinya." Despite his apprehension, he shifted slightly closer to her. "And your name?" 

Her eyes flickered downwards, filled with something more than distant lethargy. "Mahiru." 

Without another word, Mahiru swiveled around, walking away in careful strides, heading to a doorway that looked more like a fence, with black bars running down it vertically. She pulled it to the side, and the door folded inwards. 

Once she stepped inside the small square room it revealed –an elevator–, she turned around, for the first time making eye contact with him. "Are you coming, or would you prefer to take the stairs?"

Shinya's cognitive function stalled, and he stopped to ponder this situation. He didn't trust her in the slightest, and following a girl who had just come back from the dead into a confined box didn't seem like the smartest decision he could be making right now.

Regardless, he joined her.

The sound the gate made when closing sounded uncomfortably definite, locking into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are short but honestly i really just want to get this story out there as quickly as i can because its been brewing in my head for so long... its about time it Manifests in the physical world y know what im saying


	3. Deathwish

As soon as they were outside, she was swept by the wind and carried down some trail that had been cemented in her mind, her dress billowing around her. Through brambles and the twisting tree roots that stretched out like clawed hands, Shinya followed her, having to watch his step as he did. It was a split-second decision, he could've easily just gone off in his own direction and forget the encounter ever happened. The autumn leaves here weren't as vibrant as in his town, oranges were much more subdued, reds muted, and they crunched loudly with each footstep. 

As the treetops began to part, he could make out snow tipped mountains in the far distance, which towered over anything else in the residence. Mahiru kept running, never stalling for a moment, eyes locked on her destination.

The sparkling of icy water made Shinya stop in his tracks, reeling to keep himself from going any further. He watched, mouth agape, as Mahiru continued onward, holding up the rim of her skirt. No sound was made when she touched the freezing water, as she stepped into it so elegantly.

Mahiru dropped her skirt, letting it soak, and splayed her arms out as if she were embracing something. She let out a sigh, and a cloud of condensation curled from her mouth.

The water was so still it was like a mirror, reflecting the cool hues of the mountains and snowy sky.

"Isn't it beautiful," she said into nothing.

Shinya's cold, objective mind had trouble deciphering something so incredibly cryptic. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the gnarled tree behind him. She was far too unpredictable for him to feel the slightest bit at ease. Maybe she had just gone insane up in that isolated tower of hers.

Her eyelashes were closed, curling against her cheek in a state of content. The opposite kind of expression you'd expect from someone knee-deep in freezing water.

Mahiru kneeled, to sit down upon the grass at the shoreline, still half submerged. Her sharp, unblinking gaze now fixed in a place far in the distance, far past the clouds. The way in which her lifeless eyes would loll about in their socket reminded him of a doll's. "Life seeping from the world in a final exhale, the end of a story." She certainly did not seem to be addressing him when she spoke, she was off in a world of her own.

The leaves sprouting from her vines relished in the sunshine, although the sun was mostly covered by the clouds and mountains. They moved as if they had a mind of their own, writhing and twisting. She was a thorned plant, so he could only imagine what it felt like inside of her, as that's where the majority of the plant is. Shinya winced at the thought.

Watching her blood red roses, he was reminded of his own sunlight deprivation, and came to notice his own foliage had curled its way down his arms and up his neck. Light green speckled stems that characterized an orchid. They weren't unpleasant looking, no, but orchids had quite a distasteful reputation, so Shinya pulled his black sleeves down to hide them. Anxiety washed up on him all at once. Kureto, the convictions, the numbered days hanging over his head. 

He only escaped because there was no other option– it was life or death. Now, what was he going to do with himself? How does one deal with this level of collateral? Shinya bit his lip.

The stems found their way past his shirt regardless of his attempts to conceal them, blooming past the gaps in his buttons. 

Mahiru twirled blades of grass between her fingertips. She held far too much wisdom for someone who appeared so young. Although he knew she wasn't anywhere close to young, at least a couple hundred years old. 

Shinya slid down the tree trunk, slumping into the wet grass. _Alone, fending for himself_ , as he did nearly all things. He knew the risk of getting too close to someone. He knew just as well as anyone else did that love meant death, and he had watched it slowly claim person after person. Until flowers are blooming from them, and they're left to act as nothing more than compost in their grave. Everyone, of course, except Mahiru.

The worst part was, no one seemed to care. All their aspirations wasting away for the sake of love. It was a parasite. Shinya brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a vulnerable sitting position.

* * *

Shinya was the only occupent in the entire corridor. The cells in this castle were abandoned, made with colorless gray stone, and most importantly, devoid of any light. His eyelids became heavy after the thirtieth hour, begging to close. The cold metal bar pressed against his cheek as he sat leaning against it. 

Black painted his vision, and everything went out of focus. Sleep pulled his unwilling psyche towards its comforting embrace.

"Excuse me, mister."

He blinked at the fuzzy figure before him. Something purple, and short. His hand rubbed at his eyes.

The girl standing outside his cell tilted her head, although wore an expression of understanding. 

"Been in here long, huh?"

Now that Shinya could see the person before him, and could quite clearly tell they couldn't be more than eight years of age. He squinted past her, to see if anyone else had accompanied her. No one.

She smiled, appearing to be amused by the situation. "My, you must've done something awfully scandalous to be in here for life." She sat down on the concrete floor on the other side of the cell to be eye-level with him. Her next words were hushed, with an undertone of excitement. "What did you do?"

"Deface the castle? Steal something?" she whispered with a wicked grin "Did you burn someone?"

Shinya shook his head, "no, i didn't do anything, i shouldn't be in here."

"I'm sure you didn't," she replied without skipping a beat, "knowing my family."

Shinya's heart stopped, feeling the sap thrumming through his veins turn cold. "You're a Holly?" His voice trembled, something it seldom does. She shrugged it off. "You don't have to worry about treating me in any particular way, they couldn't care less about my wellbeing. I'm a bastard child, a weed." There was a pang of bitterness in her words, genuine resentment. 

Now that he looked, he could see that she lacked the one trait that supposedly characterized all Hollys, which was red eyes. Hers were an unspectacular brown. Shinya was attempting to put all the pieces together, with brows creased in concentration. "So, what are you doing here?"

She went back to smiling, changing moods as easily as one would flip a switch. "I don't have much to do around here, and it's rather boring honestly. Talking to prisoners is the only way i get to find out about the outside world, since they never let me leave." 

After a moment of silence, she frowned at him. "You say that you didn't actually do anything?"

Shinya nodded, although not very enthusiastically, still dead tired.

The girl bit her lip, glancing down both sides of the corridor.

"I can get the key to your door, but I can't promise you'll be able to find a way out of the castle."

 


	4. Violet

The roots at the mouth of his throne, twisting in agony, seemed to curl up like a snake ready to strike as Kureto came closer. All that was left of his father was his hands, veined and rough-looking, as they gripped the armrest. The rest of him, engulfed by an enormous wooden trunk that grew up into the ceiling indefinitely. It was far too dark to see the end of it, it disappeared about twenty feet up. There was a sickly smell in the air, of something poisonous and rotten. Kuretos eyes went slant, reveling in how his father's foliage swelled in a similar way to his pride. Him and Mahiru were far too much alike, letting their desire fester until it eats them alive.

Formal trivialities had long since been forgone, now that his father no longer had the physical capability to do anything about it. He stood casually before him, head level with his and shoulders back, in no way resembling the submissive posture he was expected to portray.

"You know she won't comply." It was a slithering slew of words, and the spite in his voice was almost tangible. Although there was certainly a promise of malevolence behind it, there was a level of childishness to his frustration.

It echoed in the vast, inky black room. Kureto could see the the tendons in his father's hand twitch.

"You are not a suitable successor." His booming voice resounded from every direction as it bounced off the walls. His demeanor oozed of absolute dominance and sovereignty.

Kureto's beaded red eyes narrowed further. It was not as if he hadn't heard this before, this had been a reoccurring conversation since Mahiru's dramatic falling out and eventual vow to eternal solitude.

He contemplated continuing to push his limits, rehearsing an argument they've droned through countless times before, but decided against it. Instead, he left without another word, and a vile idea beginning to brew in the recesses of his mind.

* * *

His grave is where Mahiru felt she most belonged. The dirt was soft beneath her fingernails, a pleasantly warm brown color. It was so fertile, so vibrantly alive. Mahiru choked on her air as she stared at it, contemplatively. The violets sprouting from his grave were exactly as she had remembered them, lightly pigmented at the center and growing more satured as it got closer to the petal's tip. His gravestone was made of cheap stone and unevenly carved. "Guren River" was haphazardly engraved into its surface. The level of respect expected to be given to someone from the River family. 

Her arms gave out, and she found herself fully on the ground as she clutched at the foliage that represented the last living part of him. Piles of dead stems and flowers decorated the perimeter, as the violets had been here long enough to experience more than hundreds of winters, wilting just to come back to life again in spring. 

Mud streaked across her dress from where her knees met the earth. Head down, she felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes. Oh great and prestigious Holly, sobbing into the ground in a collapsed ball; she knew exactly the words her brother would spit at her. For a brief moment of insanity and also genuine longing, she considered digging at the ground until she could reveal the hidden corpse, and holding him for one more time.

It made her sob harder that decency was truly the only thing keeping her from doing it, as every bone in her body ached to get him out of there, screamed that he didn't belong in the dirt.

* * *

 

Shinya had become a paranoid disaster, jumping at any sudden movement, like a skittish bird that takes off at the slightest sign of danger. The way Kureto watched him unsettled him to his core, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had somehow been caught in his web of schemes. He was being far too welcoming, to let an orchid into their sacred residence is practically unthinkable, let alone that he was suspected of the murder of three people. 

More disturbing was that he had been forbidden to leave the premise.

Living at the castle for only three weeks, he could already understand Mahiru's disheveled mental state. The place was alive, made from the bones of the ancestor of the Holly residence. The whole thing was a monumental tree, that had been shaped to form rooms over the course of thousands of years. He had touched the walls once and swore he had felt the pulse of sap thrumming through it. 

Speaking of which, all Mahiru seemed to do was drape herself limply upon the furniture, brooding about the past in vague and poetic terms. Only did she ever stay atop her tower, only going to the outside world on occasional whims. And she was always promptly caught and brought back home when any of the assistants went looking for her. 

Mahiru could play a few choice instruments, and Shinya almost wished she couldn't. Whenever she picked up one of the many white stringed instruments that could be found in the castle, she would make sounds with it that chilled him to his bones. It seemed like a method she used to make her agony contagious, as it hung in the air and made Shinya want to cover his ears. 

Shinoa, is what he had learned the little girl's name to be, was far too curious for her own good, and very appreciative of any form of amusement. She was his main source for understanding more about the family that had him beneath their claws. He would inturn entertain her with stories from his town, and sometimes answer questions she had about the outside.

 _Guren_ was apparently a name he should know, although never speak of openly. 

Then she would disappear, like a ghost into thin air. He wouldn't try to find her, because he would most likely just get himself more lost in the labyrinth of halls.


End file.
